


A Winner For a Lifetime

by Wonko



Category: Holby City
Genre: 5 Things, Berena Appreciation Week 2018, F/F, angst in the first one, but the rest are safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-27 08:23:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15681642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wonko/pseuds/Wonko
Summary: Five moments from their life together, aka 5 ways Bernie's different from Serena's past lovers. Each chapter is connected to a prompt from Berena Appreciation Week 2018.Chapter 1: Prompt - FamilyChapter 2: Prompt - BreakupChapter 3: Prompt - NairobiChapter 4: Prompt - AlcoholChapter 5: Prompt - Smut (well...tasteful barely M rated sex, actually.)





	1. Family

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the Whitney Houston song _One Moment in Time_.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bernie doesn't disappear when times get tough...

Serena retreats into herself after the funeral, staying in her bedroom for days at a time, refusing food, refusing the endless cups of tea that Jason tries to press upon her. She manages not to snap at him but it takes effort, drains some of her already dwindling reserves. When Bernie slips into bed beside her three days later, unexpected and uninvited, she doesn’t have the energy to send her away.

“Hello,” Bernie whispers, slipping her arms around Serena’s waist, spooning against her back.

“Hi,” she croaks back, realising only as the word leaves her mouth that she hasn’t spoken for days.

They lie together in a dark silence for a long time, Bernie timing her breathing to match Serena’s until it turns ragged, sobs like broken glass shattering the quiet of the room. Bernie holds her tighter, presses her lips against her temple, waits for it to pass.

When it does, Serena turns in the circle of her arms and nestles against her neck. She feels wrung out, like she’s been hollowed out, emptied of tears. She knows that’s an illusion of course, knows fresh tears will fill her up before long. For now though, she’s spent.

“I must stink,” she murmurs, sniffing delicately. She can’t smell anything, too stuffed up from crying, but she knows she hasn’t washed for days.

“No,” Bernie whispers. “But I’d like to make you more comfortable.”

She slips away, as far as the en-suite, and Serena hears the bath running, Bernie puttering about, preparing the room. She returns after five minutes, her arm newly dried where she’s tested the temperature, holding out her hand to help Serena up. She goes without complaint, dumb and compliant, allows Bernie to undress her, to drop her clothes into the hamper, to coax her into the warm, bubbly water. Bernie’s used what looks like an entire Lush bubble bar and the water feels distinctly oily on her skin. It’s quite pleasant, surprisingly - soft and gentle.

Serena sits in silence for a while, letting Bernie run soapy hands over her, allowing herself to be washed and caressed.

“You don’t have to do this,” she whispers, almost to herself. “I know this isn’t what you signed up for.”

Bernie’s hands slow. “What?”

Serena shrugs. “It’s only been a few weeks,” she says. “This isn’t what you thought you were getting.”

Bernie’s hands begin to move again, soaping and rinsing Serena’s skin. “I haven’t  _ signed up  _ for anything,” she says. “You’re not a job. You’re not a contract.” She breathes deeply through her nose. “You’re my partner,” she says softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Serena blinks, feeling tears well up behind her eyelids. Bernie leans down and kisses her forehead, breathing against her skin for a long moment.

The moment passes. Serena sucks in a ragged breath, nods.

“Tip your head back,” Bernie says at last. “I’ll wash your hair.”


	2. Breakup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bernie makes a sacrifice...

“Look, it’s not you. It’s me.”

Morven doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, she really doesn’t, but Bernie’s tone is so distraught that she can’t help herself. She stops outside the locker room door, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

“I know we’ve had some wonderful times together…”

Her eyes widen in disbelief. Ms Wolfe’s dumping Ms Campbell? But they’ve seemed so in love since Ms Wolfe got back from Kiev. Just this morning she’d spotted them in the car park steaming up the windows of the MX5. She’d had to physically threaten some medical students who’d looked like they were thinking about filming the show.

“I’ll always love you, in a way.”

Morven catches Fletch’s eye as he’s passing and grabs him, making him pull up short. “Oi!” he exclaims. “You trying to get some practice at fixing dislocations?” He rubs his shoulder, frowning. “I think the GMC frowns on making your own guinea pigs.”

She cuts off his rant with a shake of her head. “No, listen.” She nods towards the door. “I think something awful’s happening.”

He cocks his head, then his eyes widen as he takes in what he’s hearing. “All good things come to an end, as they say.”

“Oh shit,” he groans. “D’you think I can get a transfer to another ward?”

“What?”

“You think Serena was bad when Bernie was in Kiev? That’ll seem like a beach holiday compared to this.”

Morven nods ruefully. “I’m surprised she’s not giving her a piece of her mind right now.”

“Who’s not?”

They both whirl round. “Ms Campbell!” Morven’s jaw drops, her eyes flicking to the locker room door. “But then...who…”

Serena raises an eyebrow. “I think you two probably have work to do that doesn’t involve eavesdropping, don’t you?”

She allows herself a little chuckle as the two of them scamper off. She’s about to get back to work herself when she hears Bernie’s voice floating through the door. “Oh God, I’m going to miss you…”

She ducks her head in, surprised when she finds the locker room empty save for a familiar leggy blonde frame. Bernie’s sitting on the bench staring at her hands.

“Bernie?” she says, slipping inside and letting the door close behind her. “Everything all right?”

Bernie’s head snaps up. “Oh! Yes, everything’s fine.” She budges up and lets Serena sit by her side, their thighs pressing together. “Just...saying farewell to an old friend.”

Serena looks down at the half-empty packet of Silk Cut in Bernie’s hands. Her face softens. “You don’t have to, you know,” she says gently. “It’s your body.”

Bernie shrugs. “I know. I just…” She manages a small smile. “I seem to have developed an interest recently in living a long and happy life. And I don’t want you and Jason breathing in secondhand smoke.”

A rush of love hits Serena square in the chest and she has to blink back sudden tears. “Oh,” she murmurs, then drops her head onto Bernie’s shoulder. “You’d really do that for me?”

Bernie presses a kiss onto her forehead. “For us, darling. We’re a team now, right?”

Serena nods. “Right.”

They sit together for a moment longer, just reveling in their closeness, the way their bodies fit together. When they head back to the ward, Bernie drops the half-empty packet in the nearest bin.


	3. Nairobi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bernie only has eyes for one woman...

After Bernie’s surprise visit and their little flirtation with disaster, they get better at communicating. They fall into a sort of routine, as much of a routine as their very busy schedules will allow at least. Some days there doesn’t seem to be enough time to fit everything in, and they become rather adept at squeezing in a text or an email while doing other things, like cooking or eating or - since Bernie barely does either of those things - while grabbing a bathroom break between surgeries. They both have an email in their drafts that they update when they can and send when it gets long enough. They’re almost like journals, just detailing things that have happened, little annoyances, and sometimes how they’re feeling. Serena tells Bernie about Fletch’s dad and how eye-rollingly obvious he is in his attempts to ingratiate himself with his son via her. Bernie tells Serena about her colleagues, about the challenges they’re facing, about her new co-lead, Celine.

She’s French, a few years younger than them, spent a decade with Médecins Sans Frontières. Serena looks at a picture of the two of them on the trauma unit’s website. Celine is pretty - beautiful, in fact, and exactly Bernie’s type: brunette, intelligent and surgically gifted. Bernie seems to bring her up a lot, or perhaps Serena’s just hyper-aware of her name in a text or email. A knot of anxiety begins to form in her gut, so small at first that she doesn’t even notice it. But it grows.

It’s just that Bernie’s so far away, and Celine is pretty and available and  _ right there. _ And it’s not like Bernie hasn’t strayed before, and it’s not like Serena has ever been enough to  _ stop  _ those she’s loved from straying.

The worry gnaws at her until she can’t bear it anymore and she books herself a week off, then a flight to Nairobi. She doesn’t tell Bernie she’s coming, just turns up one day and waits for her outside the hospital when she knows her shift’s ending.

She sees them leaving together, smiling and laughing, walking with just a handspan of space between them. Her heart clenches, but she forces a smile onto her face as she calls out. “My goodness, is that Bernie Wolfe? Long time no see.”

Bernie turns, and the look on her face is almost comical. “Serena?” she gasps, and then rushes forward to crush her in an embrace that seems to encompass untold months of longing. She doesn’t kiss her, because they’re in public and it could get them arrested, or at the very least make things difficult for Bernie at the hospital. So it doesn’t feel like they’ve properly said hello yet when she pulls back and gestures towards her companion. “Serena, this is my colleague, Celine Dubois. Celine, this is Serena Campbell.”

Something close to recognition sparks on Celine’s face as she shakes her hand and insists that they all go for a drink to celebrate Serena’s arrival in the country. They go to a little place that seems to be frequented mostly by foreigners and Celine sits with Serena while Bernie goes to queue at the bar.

“So,” Celine says. “You’re the famous Campbell.” Serena isn’t quite sure what to say to that, so just regards her quietly as she waits for Celine to elaborate. “She’s always talking about Campbell,” the other woman continues.  _ “I get to FaceTime with Campbell later,  _ she’ll say. Or  _ I can’t come out tonight, I have an email to Campbell I need to finish.  _ I think all of our juniors think she’s talking about her husband. But I just realised when she introduced us - she never uses any pronouns.”

Serena flushes, glad she can blame the equatorial heat. “Doesn’t she?” is all she says, feels a little dismantled under this woman’s knowing gaze. She looks over at Bernie instead and catches her looking back. She has to take a breath, hit with the force of love in her partner’s eyes like it’s a physical thing.

Celine looks first at Bernie, then back at Serena. “How long will you be in the country?” she says.

“A week,” Serena replies absently, still staring at Bernie.

“Hmm.” 

She barely notices when Celine gets up, but frowns when she sees her walking over to Bernie and whispering something in her ear. Serena watches her leave the bar, then turns when Bernie approaches, empty-handed.

“She said to forget about the drinks and take you home,” Bernie says. “And that I’d better not show my face at the hospital for the next week.”

They spend the week exploring Nairobi by day and making love by night. Serena flies back to England with her hair bleached almost blonde by the sun and her heart lighter than it’s been in months.

She doesn’t worry about Celine, or any other woman, ever again.


	4. Alcohol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bernie doesn't understand the stupidity of straight men...

Serena doesn’t understand why Bernie’s anxious about Cam and Morven’s wedding until the day itself. In her mind, it’s going to be a beautiful day, full of happiness for their little blended family. Cam’s asked Jason to be a groomsman and little Guinevere is a flower girl. She’s adorable in her outfit, and is taking the role extremely seriously. Everyone’s happy and excited except Bernie, who spends the morning tense and withdrawn.

Serena finally understands why at the reception. The guests are a nice mix of Morven’s family, work friends, acquaintances from uni and Cam’s family. What Serena hadn’t appreciated was that Cam’s family is largely Marcus’s family, Bernie being an only child of only children. And Marcus’s family are cold at best and openly hostile at worst to his ex-wife.

Bernie starts in on the whisky after the speeches are over. She takes a sip every time she receives a barbed comment, and is soon well on her way to being drunk. Cam comes over to sit with them for a while, to act as a bit of insulation from the nastier members of his family, when one of Marcus’s cousins appears, accompanied by a man Bernie’s can’t quite place. They both clap Cameron on the back, boorishly drunk, but apparently cheerful.

“Commiserations, old chap!” Marcus’s cousin says, laughing like an idiot.

“Say goodbye to your freedom!” his companion adds, slapping Cam on the back so hard that he almost falls off his chair.

Bernie takes a large sip of her whisky, narrowing her eyes at the two men. Cameron doesn’t quite know where to look, laughing uncomfortably at their jokes. When one of the men uses the phrase ‘ball and chain’, Bernie downs the last of her drink and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Have you two ever thought about divorcing your wives and just fucking each other?”

Their faces are a picture, shock and outrage warring on their features. “What?”

Bernie shrugs. “It’s just you don’t seem to enjoy the concept of being married to women,” she says. “It’s not compulsory you know.”

“Okay!” Serena interjects, standing up and grabbing Bernie’s hand. “I think I’d like a little walk in the fresh air, darling. Let’s go.”

She takes Bernie out into the grounds of the hotel and watches as she begins to pace back and forth. “Pompous asses,” she fumes.

Serena shrugs. “I do believe that’s how a lot of men talk,” she says blandly.

Bernie throws her hands in the air. “Idiots!” she exclaims. “Morons! Buffoons! Imagine having a wife, a  _ wife  _ Serena, a woman who loves you and cherishes you and wants to spend her life with you, and talking about her like she’s some kind of inconvenience!” She shakes her head. “Men!”

Serena walks towards her with a smile on her lips, letting her hips sway a little. “Idiots indeed,” she purrs, and drapes her arms round Bernie’s neck.

Bernie swallows hard as she lets her palms rest on Serena’s waist. “I just don’t understand why men are so reluctant to admit to actually loving their wives. God knows, if I-”

She snaps her mouth shut and looks down, but Serena ducks her head down to find her eyes. “If you had a wife?” she says. “Is that what you were going to say? If you had a wife you’d tell her you loved her every day and make her feel like the most beautiful and lovely creature in all the world?”

Her cheeks are flushed with more than just alcohol, but Bernie nods. “Would you...do you think you’d ever want to…”

Serena’s face softens. “Is that a proposal, Major Wolfe?” she asks, and laughs at her partner’s discomfort. “Ask me again when you’re sober.”

Bernie blinks. “Okay.”

“But darling,” Serena murmurs, leaning forward. “You do all those things anyway.” She’s still smiling when she kisses her.


	5. Smut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bernie is an excellent lover...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut = tasteful, barely M rated sex in this case.

Serena has always enjoyed sex, been vocal about what she wants, not been afraid to take matters into her own hands if necessary. She’s usually had to do a bit of remedial education, showing her lovers how to touch her just right, how to read her body so they’ll know when to be gentle and when to be firm, how to ensure she doesn’t get left behind as they get carried away. Being with Bernie is strange at first, but only because she’s the one doing the learning - seeing all the things she’s understood on a visceral, deep level for decades on someone else’s face, feeling them in someone else’s body.

They still communicate, but it’s like it is in theatre, each one playing off the other, knowing within a gesture or a syllable what the other wants. It’s dizzying, if she stops to think about it, how easily Bernie has found it to play her like a violin.

She wonders if Bernie has ever played an instrument. Her long, dexterous fingers on a piano keyboard. Her beautiful, talented lips pursed against the mouthpiece of a flute. A cello tucked between her strong, creamy thighs.

“Mmmph!”

Her train of thought is derailed as Bernie chooses that exact moment to turn what had been a series of gentle kisses against her inner thigh into a nip instead.

“You seemed a bit lost in your own world,” she says, looking up at Serena with dark, smouldering eyes. “I’m not boring you, am I?”

Serena shakes her head, smiling at the absolute insanity of the question. “Never,” she says breathlessly. “But it must be your turn by now, surely.” Because Bernie settled between her thighs half an hour ago and hasn’t been satisfied with making her gasp and moan and clutch at her hair once, or even twice. She’s well on her way to three times, which Serena - for all her love of sex and complete lack of self-consciousness in the bedroom - had not believed her body was capable of.

“I’m having my turn,” Bernie says simply.

“No,” Serena says, frowning, “I meant-”

“I know what you meant.” Bernie smiles faintly. “This is what I want to do right now.” She presses a kiss to the soft skin of Serena’s thigh. “This is what I’ve been thinking of all day.” She dips her head for a taste, making Serena’s breath catch and her back arch. “You’re delicious,” she whispers. “This is everything I want.”

And that’s what’s really different about being with Bernie, Serena thinks. Not smooth skin instead of rough, not curves instead of planes, not softness instead of hard muscle. It’s this. This time. This slow worship. This feeling that her pleasure is a destination to be lingered at, rather than a warm up to the main event.

“I suppose I could manage one more,” Serena murmurs, her fingers threading in Bernie’s hair, her hips arching up to meet that warm, wonderful mouth.

Bernie smiles, licks her lips. “That’s my girl.”


End file.
